THE MAHADEO HILLS 111 



putting up my rifle to fire when, with a loud snort, the 

 owner wheeled round, and plunging noisily down the hill 

 disappeared. This snort, which sounds like a strong 

 expulsion of air through the nostrils, is very commonly 

 uttered by bison when suddenly disturbed, and is the only 

 sound I ever heard from them, except a low menacing 

 moan, which I have heard a bull utter when suspicious of 

 approaching danger, and the quivering bellow which they 

 sometimes emit in common with most other animals when 

 in articulo. I ran to the edge of what proved to be a 

 deepish ravine full of bamboos, and was just in time to see 

 a small herd of six or seven cows and calves disappearing 

 over a low shoulder on the opposite side. But behind 

 them slowly stalked one bull — a majestic fellow nearly 

 jet-black, and towering like a young elephant in the 

 rapidly closing gloom of the evening. As he reached the 

 top of the rise he paused and turned broadside on, his 

 solemn-looking visage facing in our direction. He was 

 about ninety yards from where I sat, with the heavy 8-bore 

 rifle I had wearily dragged after him all day rested on 

 my knee; and, forbidding though he looked, I sighted 

 him just behind the elbow and fired, fully expecting him 

 to subside on the receipt of two ounces of lead driven by 

 six drachms of powder. But there was no result whatever, 

 save a dull thud as the bullet plunged into his side ; and 

 he slowly walked on over the brow as if nothing had 

 happened. My other barrel caught him in the flank, and 

 then I seized the spare rifle that was thrust into my hand, 

 and sped across the intervening ravine. I was toiling up 

 the other side, very hot and much out of breath, when a 

 heavy crash beyond fell upon my delighted ear. I had 

 been in agony lest I had missed the mighty target after 

 all ; but it was not so. There he lay as he had fallen, and 

 rolled over down the hill until stopped by a clump of 

 bamboos. A mighty mass of beef, truly, secured at last. 

 But we were six or seven miles from Puchmurree, and 

 there was no more than half an hour of daylight left. The 

 road I knew was frightful, with hundreds of ravines be- 

 sides the great one to cross, and it was not to be thought 

 of at night. After due consideration we determined to go 

 and sleep at a recently cut dhya that was known by the 



